


Eternal Summer

by rubyyong



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Dirty Talk, F/M, Face-Sitting, Fluff, G, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-19
Updated: 2019-08-19
Packaged: 2020-09-07 20:42:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20315713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rubyyong/pseuds/rubyyong
Summary: There’s nothing more thrilling than spending a weekend on a gorgeous island with your closest friends. Summer sun, blue skies, sandy beaches and your biggest crush - Johnny Suh.





	Eternal Summer

The sun is shining brightly, high up in the sky. It effortlessly glitters over the endless blue that stretches out in front of you, encrusting diamonds into the sapphire, the most beautiful scene you’ve ever laid eyes on.

The weather is more than perfect and you must admit that Jaehyun’s suggestion of renting a house on the shore for two weeks, couldn’t have come at a better time. With the weather at its annual peak and the six of you all free at once - it was almost too good to be true.

* * *

The commute was short, a half-hour during which you spent fiddling with the radio and sipping on your water-down iced-tea. The ice cubes dissolving as soon as you popped the roof of your compact convertible down.

Your skin is radiant under the glow of the midday sun, sticky sunscreen lathered on before you left the house, leaving thumb-prints on everything you touch - sunglasses included. Your eyes are hidden behind the dark specs, a floppy hat shielding the delicate skin of your visage from the harsh rays. You’re barely recognisable to Jaehyun when you arrive, safe for the bright red car you pull up in and it makes him smile, fondly.

“You came!” Jaehyun pops open the window of the kitchen, leaning his head out in an effort to catch your attention. You spin on the spot, your shoes scratching across the gravel as you search for his voice. You slide down your glasses with your index finger, smiling as you lay eyes on him. “I came!” You call back with a wave of your arm, “Are you going to help me with my stuff?” You ask, a sheepish smile on your face as he chuckles, the sound echoing over the stretch of the carpark. “Be right there!” He calls, shutting the window.

You sigh and turn to face the ocean once more, the sun slowly sinking in hues of orange and pink, scarlet streaking through the honeydew star as it falls to its slumber. The sun dying in order to keep the moon alive, it’s a beautiful sight.

You spend a few minutes watching, admiring, waiting. Jaehyun seems to have forgotten about you, but you don’t take it personally. With a house full of people, he must’ve gotten side-tracked or busied with a more important task. Besides, you can manage on your own just fine.

You adjust your glasses and secure your hat on your head, popping open the trunk of your car to fetch the lone suitcase you’ve overstuffed. Your fingers grip the handle and tug it outward, the bottom of the luggage scraping along the gravel in an awful mess of dust before you hear quick footsteps along the path.

“Love! I’ve got it!” You turn, dropping the suitcase as you search for the source of the call. You find it - as you push your sunglasses further down your nose - in the form of Johnny Suh. You open your mouth to speak as he approaches you with a smile, making up for the lack of sunlight, he radiates positive energy and glows as a result. _With Johnny, who needs the fucking sun anyway?_

Bubbly and refreshing like lemonade, Johnny Suh has been a tall glass from which you’ve wanted a drink for a long time.

“You don’t have to,” you chuckle, “I was just teasing Jaehyun. I wanted to see if he’d actually do it,” you amuse, watching him slam your trunk shut to steadily wheel the suitcase behind him. “Nonsense,” he turns to you with a smile, “Princesses shouldn’t do their dirty work,” he expresses, making you chuckle. “Who should do the dirty work, then?” You quiz, walking alongside each other toward the house. “Leave the dirty stuff to me,” he teases, a breathless chuckle falling from your lips as the conversation quietens.

When you follow Johnny into the house, the air smells strongly of charcoal <strike></strike>and you suddenly know why Jaehyun had gotten sidetracked. You find everyone out in the yard, Jaehyun is by the barbeque with a beer in hand, Jungwoo steadily tending to the grill while Taeil is swinging in a hammock with sunglasses so dark, you wouldn’t be surprised to find him sleeping under them.

Johnny waits for you at the kitchen door while you greet everyone, offering you a cold drink as you enter the house from the yard once more. “You’re still sober, yeah love?” Johnny asks as you take the can of soda from him, you nod happily, cracking it open and taking a sip, letting the bubbles sit on your tongue for a moment. “Three years,” you smile, “You remembered?” You ask, watching him lug the suitcase up the tall stretch of stairs that lead to the second floor.

He gives a breathless chuckle at this, and you’re sure his unsteady laughter is caused by the weight of your luggage. _All those clothes.._

“Yeah, of course,” he replies, “Hard to forget something so important.” You bite on the inside of your gum to stop from smiling at his words, and you aren’t sure why.

You had crushed on Johnny _hard _for years, but never really made a conscious move. He was an essential part of your friend group and you know that if things didn’t work out, either he or you would have probably ended up leaving, and the thought of having one less rock in your life was enough reason for you to bite your tongue and brush it off. You didn’t see each other too regularly for it to become a problem anyway, you were both closer with other friends.

Still, you can’t help the heat you feel spill into your cheeks when he ruffles his hair or catches your eye and smiles right at you.

You’re all sat haphazardly around the sofa in the living area after supper, the roar of Taeil’s laughter echoing throughout the hall as he cackles at Jungwoo. Jungwoo who is trying to get the cap from his beer bottle down his face without moving his head. Scrunching up his nose and wiggling his eyebrows, he fails as it hits the wooden floor with a _clink_, but he’s proud of himself nonetheless.

You yawn at the sight behind your own glass of bubbly - ice cubes swimming around in your raspberry lemonade as Jaehyun nudges you with his elbow. “You bored?” He asks, his gaze on the pink drink in your grasp. You shake your head, “No no, I’m just a bit tired,” you chuckle, slightly embarrassed. “I don’t mean to be a bore,” you defend.

He chuckles, “If you’re tired, go sleep!” He encourages a little loudly, the scent of whiskey on his breath. “We’ll keep it down,” he promises with a finger to his lips. “And we won’t make jokes about you being lame while you’re gone, either,” he nods assuringly.

You squint your eyes at this, suspicious. “Now I think that’s exactly what you’re going to do, Jae,” you accuse and he grins cheekily, “I’m kidding,” he assures you and you nod. “I might go rest then,” you sigh, placing your glass down on the coffee table. “I’ll see you all in the morning, yeah?” You wave as you stand, adjusting the collar of your matching pyjamas, _bright yellow bananas on white linen._

A chorus of _goodnight_’s follow, but the only one you really focus on is the quiet drawl of; “_Sleep well, love_.”

  
  


You sleep decently. You dream of sandy feet, a day at the beach where one of the boys drifts out a little too far in a brightly coloured floatie and you all dive in after him to make sure he doesn’t get lost forever.

You sleep decently, _that is_ until you’re interrupted by the slam of your bedroom door being pushed open. Music being played loudly from one of the neighbouring rooms, and quick footsteps approaching your bed.

You snuggle further into your comforter as the vintage tunes make your ears ring and your brows furrow. You peak up over the edge of your pillow to see a rambunctious, energetic, _incredibly inappropriate for the time of morning_ \- Lee Haechan. Wearing colourful swim shorts and a white shirt you’re surprised to see without some sort of ketchup stain on it.

“What are you doing?” You rasp, sitting up against your pillows. He continues to swing his hips to the music, throwing in all sorts of dance moves that you’d normally laugh at but given the circumstances, you roll your eyes. Mustering up the energy to toss your pillow toward his figure. He dodges it and you whine, “Haeeeee,” you complain, turning over to shove your face into your pillow once more.

You hear the music finally being shut off over the sound of the young boys’ protests, quiet footsteps and the hushed warning of; “_What are you doing? She’s asleep_,” followed by the ushering out of the troublesome teen.

You lift your head at the sound of the door squeaking, your gaze connecting with Johnny’s, and he smiles immediately. _Steady your beating heart._

“Princess, you’re awake,” he beams, poking his head through the door a little further. You muster a chuckle to cover up how flustered you are by everything, “You expect me to sleep through that?” You rasp, and he chuckles. “He’s a troublemaker.” You nod at that, a yawn escaping your lips that seems to halt the conversation.

“Are you hungry? Taeil is making pancakes,” He informs you, and suddenly with the sight of his bright smile and the encouragement in his voice - you’re a morning person.

  
  


The first week during your two week-stay on the island breezes past almost so rapidly that you almost don’t acknowledge the drastic change in the weather. Or more specifically, the rain. The rain that buckets down over the roof loudly, drowning out the sound of the old record Haechan has turned on in the next room. The sun didn’t greet you in rays shining through your window this morning, instead you were met with hideous grey clouds and that melancholy feeling the lack of sunshine washes over you.

The first week was spent mostly on the beach. Napping under large umbrellas and helping the boys remember to protect themselves from the sun. Way too many popsicles and late-nights watching horror movies. Hiding your face in Johnny’s shirt when the killer popped out of nowhere and listening to Jaehyun tease you about it for the rest of the week.

The first week was full of excitement, playfulness. Late nights and early mornings. Puffy eyes and drowsy breakfasts.

The second week begins no differently. The air is still thick, the room grossly humid as you sit against the sofa. The fibres brushing against the bare backs of your thighs, your skirt pooled around your legs as you toss your head back in another loud cry of laughter.

Johnny chuckles over his glass of lemonade, the sound of his laughter dying down as he pauses to drink. “I’m serious,” Johnny reiterates, angling his gaze. “I wish I was joking.”

“So Taeil really got into your bed?” You ask, your giggles never seeming to die down as you break out into another fit, watching the way Johnny’s eyes go wide. “Why is this funny? He called me Jungwoo and snuggled his face against my neck.”

You grab the nearest cushion and bury your face into it, a squeal of laughter falling from your lips as you curl into the side of the couch. Shielding your offensive laughter from the boy who’s sat cross-legged on the floor below you. He playfully swats at your foot, tutting in disappointment as you lift your face to find his gaze. Your eyes watery with the strength of your constant laughter.

“So you were the little spoon?” You ask, catching your breath as you grin cheekily. He shakes his head, “I’m not talking about this anymore, you have no sympathy,” he amuses.

You shake your head, “That’s not true!” You defend, sitting up in your seat. “I’m _very _empathetic, why-” You pause. “I completely understand where you’re coming from, although I wouldn’t mind waking up to some cuddles,” you offer.

“Yeah?” Johnny quirks, taking another sip from his lemonade. You nod affirmatively and he hums, “Remind me to send Haechan in tomorrow morning,” he amuses and you whine, tossing the cushion in your grasp in his direction.

The rest of the day seems to drag on slowly.

Without being able to spend time outside, along the beach - you were left with lacklustre games during which you had drained the battery on your phone trying to distract yourself.

Haechan had gone along with Jungwoo a while ago to stock up on alcohol, while the remainder of you sit around, lazed in the same positions in which you had sat all day. Your imprints - you’re sure, are almost permanently pressed into the couch cushions.

“Well I don’t wanna cook again,” Taeil rolls his neck backward with a huff, leaning back on his hands as he crosses his legs on the floor. “I’ve cooked all last week, I’m tired,” he complains. Jaehyun chuckles at this. “How can you be tired when you woke up the latest?” He teases.

Taeil scoffs, “Get to my age and you’ll see,” he replies. “Johnny can cook, or you, I don’t care. Just as long as it isn’t the other two,” he mutters. “You know I can’t cook,” Johnny chuckles, “I can do almost everything, besides cook.”

“I’ll cook,” Jaehyun sighs, “But I’m not standing out in the rain alone, one of you is coming with me,” he aims his gaze toward the three of you.

“How do we decide?” You ask, propping yourself up on your elbow as you roll onto your side. “Why don’t we draw straws?” Taeil suggests quietly, a brow raised in question. Jaehyun hums, “I don’t think that’s necessary, there’s only three of us.”

“Then what?” He replies, “The hand thing,” he offers. “The hand thing?” You ask confusedly, watching Jaehyun roll his eyes. “Yeah,” Taeil sits up. “Like this,” he instructs almost proud-sounding, pressing his hands together and spreading his fingers out flatly. “You see who has the bigger hand. Whoever has the smaller, loses.” He explains.

Johnny grins, “All of you are going to lose, then,” he comments. “We’ll see,” You sing-song, “Don’t get too confident.”

“Alright then,” Taeil pipes up, “You two go first then.”

You sit up in your seat, already offering your hand as Johnny kneels up, pressing his hand to yours. “Why are we even doing this, love? Look,” he snickers, the tips of his fingers curling over yours in victory. You whine, “Why can’t you just let me win?” You complain, he chuckles. “Because teasing you is too much fun,” he replies.

Later on, when you discover you have the same sized hand as Taeil - you offer to stand out with Jaehyun so the elder can rest. But Johnny decides to accompany you anyway, defeating any purpose of the game at all.

  
  


Thunder cracks wildly throughout the sky. Boisterous, loud and demanding - its voice can be heard laughing over the island for miles, you’re sure.

You try to ignore it, and you actually do pretty well for the first 45 minutes of the storm. Only when you all migrate to your separate rooms to sleep, you can’t distract yourself enough and before you know it - your hands are grappling to knock at the wooden door of your neighbour.

Quick raps, that you think come out more incessant because of the way your hands tremble, echoing throughout the hallway. Johnny opens after the shortest moment with a confused look, melting into concern once he opens up wider and takes in your appearance.

“Please,” you whisper quietly, in fear one of the others will hear you. “I can’t sleep alone,” you confess. Hands ringing nervously as you await his reaction. He sighs and nods, opening the door for you to step in, closing it behind you.

“Why did you come to me?” He asks, watching you peel back the thin blanket before you climb into his bed. Soaked in his warmth and that scent - the clean musk and soft vanilla. The scent of fresh shampoo and unspoken words that so desperately need to be uttered, the kiss that midnight begs for.

“Please don’t tease,” you sigh as you turn on your side, facing the window. Feeling your own figure tense up as the bed dips under his weight, the small size of the single bed meaning you two have no choice but to have your bodies up against each other.

“I wanna know,” he whispers, “I’m not teasing, I promise.”

“You’re the only one-” You pause, a deep rumble of thunder interrupting your words. Turning to press your face into his pillow, you take a deep breath as the loud cracks drown you in fear. The soft brush of Johnny’s fingers to your shoulder making it okay for you to breathe again.

“I’m the only one?” He questions quietly, the soft rasp in his voice, the gentle timbre breaking through his whisper. You turn to face the window once more, just watching the sky stir in its dark colours. The clouds swirling and skimming past through the strong efforts of the winds. _You know it’s going to be a long night._

A bright flash of lightning - blue and white and terrifying - lights up the room. Your eyes go wide and before you can question the movements of your own body, you’re turning over and away from the sight. Facing Johnny with your eyes screwed shut and his shirt balled up in your trembling fists.

“Hey, I’ve got you. It’s okay,” he hushes you, pressing that much closer to you in an effort to comfort you. “It’s okay,” he whispers. You unhand his shirt, and in the dark you can make out his features as you open your eyes, the quick flashes of lightning giving you brief glimpses into his eyes. The soft honey that gazes back at you gently and watches over you, calming.

“You make everything okay,” you whisper quietly, barely registering the sound of your voice with how loud the thunder has made your hears ring. You take a deep breath and sigh out, as if letting a weight off of your shoulders with the exhale. “You make it all better,” you confess, and you think you hear his breath stutter. The sound of his heartbeat picking up, louder than anything beyond the bedroom window.

“Love,” he calls quietly, a brush to your forearm in encouragement of showing him your gaze. Searching your eyes for an answer before he asks, “What’s troubling you?” He _knows_. He can see the frustration over your features, the way you avoid his eyes, his lips. Him.

“I-” You trail off, distracted by the way he continues to brush at your arm with his fingers, “I can’t do this,” you confess defeatedly with an exhale. His brows furrow and he wets lips lips before he speaks, “You can do anything you set your mind to,” he encourages you. “You can do-”

“I can’t,” you shake your head adamantly. “I can’t do this. I can’t be your friend anymore, John,” you admit. “I can’t be your friend because I don’t want to be your friend, I want to be yours,” you frown. Your eyes shut as you struggle through the unsteadiness of your breaths. “I want to be yours, John,” you sigh.

You’re so scared when he doesn’t immediately reply, he doesn’t speak a word, his fingers haze ceased their touches and you can barely make out the sounds of his breathing anymore. Your lip twitches as you silently squeeze the unshed tears out of the corners of your eyes, saturating the pillow beneath your head.

A quick inhale, he comes that much closer, and then you can feel his fingers on your cheek. Brushing gently, he sighs. “I want to be yours, too, love,” he confesses quietly. Coaxing you with his index finger under your chin, to open up and meet his gaze.

He swallow audibly as he wipes at your tears, and when you lift your head in an effort to meet his lips, he presses a kiss back so sweet that you think your heart breaks for him.

He tilts his head in order to meet your lips more comfortably, sighing out against your mouth as you reach up to grasp the hands that frame your face. Anchoring him to you.

He tastes faintly of strawberry mouthwash and the roots of his hair are still damp from his shower when you run your fingers through it. His sheets are warm beneath you as he rolls over you, careful to keep his body a distance from yours as not to overwhelm you.

He pulls away slightly to peck at your lips, brushing them over yours as your lips part and you pant, making a hushed noise that would be a whimper if you weren’t trying to be as deathly silent as possible.

“I’ve wanted to kiss you for so long, love,” he breaths unevenly. “Always thought about what you’d taste like,” he confesses. “Your lips are so sweet,” he moans quietly, pushing forward for some more.

He meets your tongue with his, drawing a breathy sound from you that has him humming in reply. He uses his thumbs over your cheeks to keep you still, steady as he licks into your mouth, the soft tickle of his tongue along the roof of your mouth causing your hips to lift off the bed in search of friction. The hunger taking control of you as you pull his body down to yours.

He’s resting comfortable between your legs as you continue to kiss, the sounds of thunder and flashes of lightning only helping to cover up the desperate pants that fill the room. The thick humidity causing a sheen of sweat to stick your shirt to your body, surrounded by so much warmth that your head starts to spin.

Johnny mumbles against your lips, muffled and wet, but you don’t want to stop - you can’t bare the thought so you push past it. Ignoring the mumble until he’s grappling at you jaw with his fingers, gripping your skin until you part and you’re panting, dazed. “What?” You whisper in a drunken mutter, your gaze lidded and voice dripping sex. Lust thrumming through your veins, he has the urge to smile but refrains.

“Wanna taste you,” he hums against your lips, pulling back to catch your gaze. “Need it love, need you on my tongue,” he mumbles diving back into your kiss. You sigh, “But the others-” 

“Just promise you’ll stay quiet,” he whispers against the skin of your jaw, trailing small kisses along your cheeks. “Will you let me love? Let me taste you?” He asks nonsensically, repeat the same phrases amidst his own arousal. He presses his lips to yours and moans at the way you gasp into the kiss, huffing when he suddenly pulls the pillow from under your head and throws it over the edge of the bed.

“What are you doing?” You ask, breathless, your gaze now aimed up toward the ceiling with the lack of support under your neck. He leans over you, pressing another kiss to your lips to silence your question. He quietly slides his arms around your frame, hugging you to his chest before rolling beneath you, your thighs falling open on either side of his hips. “Want you to sit on my face,” he breathes lowly, “Need to taste you, love,” he urges, nipping at the plush silk of your lower lip.

His breath is unfairly steady beneath you as his fingers trail along your thighs. Bare and exposed to the warm heat of the room, your nightie bunched up in his hands as he pushes it up around your belly, out of the way. “Is that okay?” He asks quietly, as if sensing a slight shift in the atmosphere.

You lick your lips, quickly nodding as you collect your thoughts. “Yes, yes,” you assure him, your lips returning to his in a mess of excited tongues.

He swallows your desperate whine as he grips the flesh of your thigh, fingers tracing the edge of your underwear, you feel them dip between your thighs briefly. The way he blindly strokes two lengthy fingers over the sweetness stained over your panties making him groan. “Take them off for me,” he whispers, kissing at the corner of your mouth before you awkwardly sit up on your knees, one foot at a time, slipping them off and tossing them over your shoulder.

You’re about to sit back on your heels when he grasps your hips in his hands, warmth settled around your waist as you still, watching the way he’s lifted his head to watch. His gaze is hungry and fixated on the apex of your thighs as he breathes quietly, “Look,” he bites his lip. “You’re dripping.”

Your lips part as you look down, the way the room lights up making it obvious to you what he’s looking at. Your cheeks warming at the sight of your essence dripping in a slow drool. One, two and then three, painting his lower abdomen in drops of your arousal. He moans at the sight, at the feeling and shuffles further down the bed, impatient. He bends his knees once he realises they hang off the edge of the bed, steadying himself as he situates his face directly below your heat.

You bunch up your dress, lifting it over your head as you watch him lay his tongue out, eyes focused on the space between your legs as you whine under your breath. His gaze finds yours, the way your brows are furrowed impatiently. He has half a mind to console you when he feels what he had been waiting for, a slow drool of your arousal falling over tongue. The sticky sweetness you had offered him drawing a hum of approval.

“All this for me, love?” He utters lowly, gazing up at you briefly before he runs his tongue over the skin of your inner thigh, using his grasp on your hips to push you down onto his face.

You gasp out at the first touch of his mouth to your mound, the sensation of his tongue laving at your sensitive flesh causing a shiver to run down your spine. Your hips jolt, wriggling in an effort to gain as much pleasure as possible, his hands quick to find yours, intertwining in an effort to stabilise your trembling figure.

He hums against you, your breath leaving you as your mouth gapes, your head falling back as you moan quietly, his tongue steadily working against you as he eats you out. He pulls away, slowly dragging his tongue between your folds and pulling his tongue back in to taste you. “Tastes,” he hums between short sucks to your clit, “Sweet.”

Your back arches, your body bowing over his head as he favours sucking on your clit to the short licks. Paying attention to the way your breaths go all whiney and high-pitched when he does so.

“J-Johnny,” you gasp out quietly, your gaze finding his as you open your thighs wider, carding your fingers through his hair, gripping his tresses tight between your fingers. He groans out, elongated and seemingly proud when you start rolling your hips. Your nipples pert, belly dipping as you hold his head in place and grind your hips down against his tongue.

It feels so good, so good that you cannot comprehend it all. Your biggest crush is currently holding you down against his tongue, and you don’t think you’ve ever waited this long for something so good in your life. Johnny is well worth the wait and you want to savour it, want to stretch out your first time together until the sun is rising and the storm has subsided. Until you have his trace all over you, in you, around you, everywhere. You don’t want any of this to end.

_“What’s that?”_

The hushed whispers cause you to twist the hair in your fingers, your eyes wide as they meet Johnny’s. He shakes his head, and keeps you in place. But then there are three quick knocks on Johnny’s door, and you’re quick to lift your hips, fingers scrambling to reach for his blanket in an effort to cover yourself.

“Hyung, are you okay? Did you hear anything weird?” _Haechan_.

Johnny grunts as he tugs your hips back over his mouth, returning his lips to your clit as you slap a hand over your mouth, your fingers pushing at his head in an effort to get him to pause, for at least a moment. He gives a harsh suck to your clit that has you making a noise in the back of your throat, biting down on your fist to try an keep quiet.

He pulls away briefly to answer, “I’m okay,” he drawls back, and you faintly feel the vibrations of his voice shoot up through your heat. His tongue laves over you, rolling through your folds and collecting the arousal you continue to spill for him.

“You sure?” Haechan asks once more, your hips twitching as he incessantly flicks at your bundle of nerves. Your thighs jumping around his head at the sensitivity it causes.

“I’m sure,” he answers bravely, his voice muffled as he speaks against your mound. Eyes determined as he looks up at you.

You lift your head toward the ceiling, trying to steady your breath as Johnny remains incessant in his movements. His tongue driving you to orgasm quicker than you can comprehend.

The footsteps have ceased and so have all whispers, and you can only pray that the teenager has gone back to his room.

There’s a crack of thunder, louder than the others and your hips jolt, your back arching as you frighten. Johnny shakes his head and flattens his tongue, the grip on your thighs tightening as he eats you out. Determined to keep you distracted from the storm.

“Ngh, _a-ah_,” you cry out in strangled whispers. Rolling your hips in tight circles as you babble nonsense, your brain fogged, incapable of speaking due to the pressure of your orgasm building, with how hard he’s sucking on your clit. The room echoes the sounds of your hushed cries, of heavy breaths and the unabashed way Johnny is making wet noises between your thighs. “Mm- gonna cu-cum Johnny, w-wait,” you pant, breath so unsteady that you have to swallow down mass amounts of air between gasps just to stay present. “Slow d-down,” you stutter, your hips trembling around his head, his cheeks squished up against your thighs as you try to close them around his face.

He doesn’t reply at all, doesn’t acknowledge your weak protest that you both _know _was half-hearted. Instead he doubles his efforts, holding you down with even more strength, keeping you open as he keeps his mouth working over you. You cry out, a strangled noise in the back of your throat, causing you to hiccup as you feel your body curl in on itself.

Your mouth gapes, your fingers curling tighter in his hair. Dark locks twisted around your fingers as you anchor yourself to him, your thighs spasming as you orgasm. Your hips jolt, your chest tightens and you’re sure you’re drooled at some point with having your mouth open for so long.

Johnny still leisurely licks through your folds, lapping at your sensitive flesh until your thighs jump around his head and you sit up in an effort to get away from his touch.

He catches your hips as you begin to sway, sliding out from under you to help lay you down, backwards on his small bed. He helps fold your legs out from under you, his fingers brushing against your hip before he’s at your level.

“Are you okay?” Johnny asks quietly, hands smoothing over your thighs, taking in the way they continue to tremble. He smooths your hair out of your face, thumbing at the wetness that has seeped out of the sides of your eyes as you squeeze them tight. Trying to catch your breath.

You lick your lips and weakly nod, your eyes opening to find his gaze, an abundance of honey-coloured skin greeting you as well as the radiant beauty that is Johnny. Glistening chin and puffy lips, hair wildly dishevelled and cheeks burning pink. He smiles once you seemed to have steadied your breathing, your hand reaching for his, jaw tilting upward as if asking for a kiss, and he gives it to you. A soft, sensual pressing of his swollen lips to yours, he hums quietly when you pull away and press your nose to his briefly.

He situates himself beside you, just enjoying the proximity as you roll onto your belly in an effort to shield your nude figure. Bare breasts against his fleece sheets.

He shifts his body a little and you notice the way his face screws up for a moment, before he settles back in. You trail your gaze along his body and let out a breath at the sight of his hardness strained against his briefs, prominent and _so _hard that it must be painful at this point.

“Will you let me take care of you?” You ask quietly, your body still gently thrumming from the strength of your orgasm, your skin alight as he strokes gently against the back of your hand with his thumb. He smiles softly, “I can’t promise I’ll be quiet, love,” he replies, making you smile. The quiet warning amusing you to no end.

“I’ll kiss you,” you offer, “To keep you quiet. I’ll kiss you,” you encourage him, and he can’t quite seem to refuse. His fingers already moving to grasp at his waistband as your lips meet in a scolding kiss.


End file.
